


disperse the gloomy clouds of night

by KaelinaLovesLomaris



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, Pre-Canon, discussion of the future loss of a parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28627671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelinaLovesLomaris/pseuds/KaelinaLovesLomaris
Summary: The holidays can be rough when you're missing someone, and there's no one Noctis misses more than his dad.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum & Regis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 15
Kudos: 45
Collections: FFXV Book Club 2020 Holiday Exchange





	disperse the gloomy clouds of night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ramel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramel/gifts).



> Written for the FFXV Book Club holiday fic exchange!
> 
> Title is from _O Come, O Come, Emmanuel_ :  
> "Disperse the gloomy clouds of night, and death’s dark shadows put to flight"  
> I just thought the line was pretty fitting. (Also it's my favorite Christmas song.)

This was the first time Noctis had seen his dad in over a month - aside from a few passing glances at televised news stories about this law or that event, which didn’t really count - and it was likely he wouldn’t be able to exchange more than a handful of words with him after this meeting before Regis was swept off to wherever he was needed for his next appointment. He looked… older, in a way he shouldn’t, given the relatively small amount of time that had passed since Noctis had last seen him - relative to how much he had aged, not to the amount of time that _should_ pass between a teenaged son seeing his father on a regular basis. There was more gray in his hair, a pronounced streak of it near his temple that Noctis was sure hadn’t been there a month ago, and though Regis did a good job of hiding it in his posture and voice, there was a weariness in his eyes that Noctis recognized from the mirror, after one too many sleepless nights.

Light caught on the Ring of the Lucii as Regis gestured along with whatever he was saying - Noctis had long since tuned out the Council’s discussion on Insomnia’s highway infrastructure, it wasn’t like anyone was going to ask his opinion on any of it anyways - and he scowled at it. There were days when Noctis wanted nothing more than to yank the cursed thing off his dad’s finger and toss it into the sea, the consequences to Lucis be darned. Today was shaping up to be one of those days. Aside from the literal drain on Regis’s life, it represented everything Noctis hated about his life: the distance between himself and his dad, the responsibility for a kingdom at war, the pressures of ruling, and the future looming over Noctis that was so uncertain despite apparently being destined.

He shouldn’t be ungrateful. There were people who would quite literally kill for what he had, for his power and position. He had everything he needed and more, everything he could want. Except more time with his dad, the freedom to choose what he wanted to do with his life, and the ability to make friends without worrying that they were just using him for his position. Nothing major.

He hadn’t noticed he had started sinking down a little in his seat until Ignis’s sharp elbow in his side made him sit up again. He had Ignis, who made his title and responsibilities bearable. Ignis, who Noctis would have drowned a long time ago without, whose loyalty he didn’t deserve. He had Gladio, who no matter what Noctis put him through would never abandon him. His retainers could be overbearing, but they would always be there for him. He also had Prompto, the best friend he ever could have asked for, a _better_ friend than he ever could have asked for. His retainers and friends were his family, and he shouldn’t be ungrateful because they were wonderful.

Yet as he turned his attention back to his dad, who was arguing down something one of his council members had said with all the regal bearing Noctis would never have, he couldn’t help but feel the aching, father-shaped emptiness in his life.

Noctis didn’t stay after the meeting to try to steal those few precious moments with Regis, just left the room as quickly as he could and pretended he couldn’t feel his dad’s eyes on his retreating back.

* * *

When Noctis was younger, before the Marilith and Tenebrae, before the rise in violence on the frontlines of what had previously been a cold war that forced Regis to fully give into the pressures of kingship, the winter solstice had been the most magical time of year. The snow that blanketed Insomnia brought with it a sense of wonder and peace and harmless childhood mischief in the form of surprise snowball fights. The Citadel would be decorated with pine boughs and twinkling lights and glittering glass snowflakes. The Crown City out his window, which was always well-lit, would be even brighter and more colorful with the extra lights, so much so that it could take Noctis’s breath away when he looked out over it. Presents in all their festive wrapping would pile up in his dad’s living room, ready to be distributed on the night of the solstice, when the Amicitia family and Ignis and Cor would all gather there with Noctis and his dad after all the official celebrations were over.

The memories were a blur of bittersweet happiness and aching nostalgia when Noctis recalled them now, and he kicked at a clump of snow on the edge of the sidewalk as he waited for Ignis to pick him up after his last final before winter break. The only good thing about the solstice these days was that he got time off from school, the rest just a reminder of what he was slowly losing and had already lost. The fog of his breath, which used to inspire wild imaginings of being a dragon now just heralded the ache that sat bitterly in his spine, hips, and knee. He didn’t live in the Citadel anymore to see the decorations or look out over the city, and though his apartment was a penthouse suite, it didn’t have the same view, and what he did have didn’t spark the same kind of wonderment it used to. He hadn’t bothered to decorate his own apartment beyond the few things Ignis had put up. He’d have told Ignis not to bother with even that, except he hadn’t wanted to see the concerned expression he knew he’d receive if he had, so he’d just let Ignis do what he wanted. Ignis would take it all down after the holidays, so Noctis really didn’t have to worry about it one way or the other.

Noctis had shooed Prompto away after it had become clear that Ignis was running a little late. Normally his friend’s aggressive cheerfulness would have been a welcome distraction from the cold seeping into his bones and the bite of loneliness, but right now Noctis just felt like wallowing. Prompto must have picked up on that, because his excuses had died on his lips after meeting Noctis’s eyes, and he’d just bumped his shoulder into Noctis’s in farewell and wished him a happy solstice before making his way toward his bus stop.

The dejection under his ever-present smile had almost been enough for Noctis to call him back, with the added bonus of avoiding getting an earful about how dangerous it was for him to wait alone, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead he just added disappointing his best friend to his pile of reasons to feel awful.

Ignis arrived a few uneventful minutes later, and he gave Noctis his signature disapproving stare, but something in Noctis’s face must have forestalled the lecture he had been expecting because it never came.

They were halfway to Noctis’s apartment before Ignis spoke.

“What’s bothering you, Noct?”

Noctis turned away from the window he’d been staring out, not really looking at anything, just taking in the dreary sight of the dirty snow piled up along the side of the road. Ignis wasn’t looking at him, his own eyes focused on the road like a responsible driver, but Noctis knew he had his full attention.

Noctis opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, unsure what to say. ‘My life’ was too vague, and liable to spike more worry in Ignis than it warranted. Noctis had… _improved_ since the fallout surrounding his first glimpse of his dad walking with a cane - on a news broadcast of all things, the cane just suddenly _there_ , as though it always had been, no big deal made about it, like it wasn’t proof of his dad’s rapidly deteriorating health - and he and Ignis had made up in their own way after Noctis had made an absolute brat of himself and Ignis had retaliated insensitively. They were doing better, _Noctis_ was doing better, but any admission that even hinted that Noctis’s mental state might be deteriorating again would bring the full force of Ignis’s griffon-eyed attention down on Noctis.

“I’m fine,” he finally managed, and knew he had done nothing to convince Ignis.

Ignis glanced at him but said nothing until they were almost at his apartment.

“Your father has requested that you stay at the Citadel until after the solstice. He thought it might be easier for you to prepare for the celebrations if you don’t need to travel back and forth.”

The pathetic hope that had ignited in Noctis’s chest at the first sentence died with the second. Of _course_ it was for logistical reasons, not sentimental ones.

“Sure, whatever.”

“Noct,” Ignis chided. Noctis didn’t rise to the bait. Ignis sighed. “I’ll help you pack, if you like, otherwise I’ll wait for you.” The sharp look Ignis gave him told Noctis exactly how much Ignis was _not_ in the mood for a childish act of rebellion like taking three hours to pack a bag. Not that Noctis had been planning on doing anything like that. He hadn’t done something like that in… well, the last time had only been a few months ago, admittedly. But this situation was nothing like that one had been.

“I don’t need help. I’ll be quick,” he said, and hoped Ignis took the peace offering for what it was.

“I’ll wait for you in the car, then.” A sign of good faith, and an acceptance of the olive branch. Noctis relaxed, dropping some of the tension that had been building in his shoulders throughout the drive, and he straightened out of the defensive hunch he’d slipped into without noticing. That posture wouldn’t do anything good for his back, especially with it already aggravated by the cold weather. Thankfully, the short drive to his apartment hadn’t been enough time to do any real damage.

True to his word, Noctis had packed quickly and returned to the car within fifteen minutes. He had spares of most of his necessities already in his suite at the Citadel, so he didn’t need to worry about any of that, and his suit for the solstice was still at the royal tailor; a final fitting was one of the things on the to-do list before the event. He’d just grabbed a few favorite pieces of clothing and a couple games in case he actually had some rare downtime. And Carbuncle, of course.

The drive to the Citadel was quieter but somehow less strained. Ignis left him at the door to his suite, citing paperwork and solstice preparations, but Noctis suspected he was just honoring Noctis’s unspoken desire to be alone.

An hour later, Noctis was in the middle of going over the notes from the security briefing for the upcoming televised events that Ignis had forwarded to him - apparently the man had indeed had preparations to work on, though the fact that he wasn’t doing them from Noctis’s rooms meant that he was giving Noctis space as he’d suspected - when there was a knock on his door.

Noctis groaned as he dragged himself off his couch. The ache that had settled in his lower back wasn’t bad enough yet to warrant painkillers, but perhaps a hot bath was on the schedule for tonight. It did make him wish he could just tell whoever was at the door to come in so he didn’t have to move, but aside from the obvious security risk of inviting an unknown someone into his suite, it was a moot point because the door was locked.

He cracked the door open, then swung it wide in shock.

“Dad.”

“Hello, son.” Regis smiled. “May I come in?”

Noctis stepped aside to let his dad in, then peered back out into the empty hallway.

“Where’s Clarus?”

“I ditched him.” There was a grin in his dad’s voice, and Noctis closed the door before turning to raise an eyebrow at him. It had been almost two weeks since the council meeting Noctis had walked out after, and the sight of his dad smiling at him made him feel like Gladio had just slammed the hilt of a training blade against his chest.

“Do I need to be prepared for an army of Crownsguard to storm my rooms in search of you?” Noctis asked, folding his arms across his chest, as though that could stop his heart from cracking apart.

Regis laughed. “No, I will text him in a few minutes to call off the search before they get this far.” The glint of mischief in his eyes faded to something soft as he looked at Noctis. “I just wanted a chance to see you. It’s been too long.”

_And whose fault is that?_ Noctis shoved down the reflexive thought. He really couldn’t, and shouldn’t, blame Regis for being the king and taking his duties seriously. But reminding himself of that didn’t make the ache hurt any less.

He must have waited too long to respond, because the smile fell from his dad’s face.

“I apologize for dropping by unexpectedly. Were you in the middle of something?”

“I… no. Ignis sent over a few reports for me to look at, but I’m not busy. It’s… good to see you.” His words felt inadequate, and he winced internally. He had messed up. Why, whenever he saw Regis, did he have such a hard time expressing himself? It wasn’t as though he was afraid of earning his approval; he knew his dad was disproportionately proud of him. He was just… _afraid_. Of making Regis feel like he wasn’t doing enough, maybe. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his dad.

And also, maybe, if Noctis was being completely honest with himself, he was afraid that even if he admitted how he was feeling, nothing would change. It wasn’t like Regis could just abdicate and retire to spend time with his son. For one thing, if he abdicated, Noctis was the only one who could take the throne, and that wouldn’t solve anything.

“How have you been, Noctis?” Regis asked.

“Fine,” he answered automatically, before he could think about it. Regis frowned slightly.

“You know if there’s anything troubling you, you can talk to me? Or Ignis,” Regis added quickly, when Noctis felt his expression close down.

“I know.”

_I want to, but I just don’t know how. How do I tell you that I need you without making you feel like you’ve failed? Without forcing you to choose between me and the kingdom, when we both know which you have to pick?_

“Okay,” Regis said, smiling sadly. “Okay. As long as you know.”

His dad didn’t stay long after that. They exchanged a few more polite pleasantries, and Noctis retreated further into himself with each rote response, the guilt weighing on him, but not enough to break through the anxiety that came with the thought of actually telling his dad what was wrong.

Noctis dropped back down onto his couch after the door closed behind his dad and sprawled out on it, staring up at the ceiling. The first chance at a meaningful conversation with his dad in months, and Noctis had blown it. No wonder Regis had specified logistical reasons for summoning him to the Citadel. He must have thought Noctis hated him. Noctis contemplated for a moment about calling him back, rushing out into the hall after him and begging for just a few more scraps of his time, but he couldn’t bring himself to. So he stayed there, staring up at a ceiling that was too far away to feel like home, until he fell asleep.

* * *

Regis closed the door behind him and sighed. Ignis had been right, there was something bothering Noctis. His son’s hackles had been up the entire time Regis had been there, defensive and evasive, almost bordering on hostile. Noctis had his moods, Regis had heard enough reports over the years, and seen a smaller share himself, to know that. But it was rare for his ire to be directed at Regis. At his worst, he tended to be withdrawn and sullen with him. Regis couldn’t imagine what he had done to upset Noctis to this extent, unless he was annoyed at being summoned back to the Citadel for the week leading up to the solstice. Regis had thought it would be more convenient for Noctis, and also a good opportunity for them to catch up. They did not get to spend nearly as much time together as Regis wanted, as Noctis deserved. But if Noctis had had plans during his break, Regis would have to make sure he knew he could leave if he needed to. It certainly wasn’t Regis’s intent to _confine_ him to the Citadel. That was why he had allowed him to have the apartment in the first place.

Well, part of the reason.

Regis never could say no to Noctis. And with the fate laid on his shoulders, so much heavier than any of the Lucis Caelums before him, - and still unknown in full to Noctis - Regis simply wanted him to have the most normal life he could offer him before he had to pick up the mantle of Crown Prince and then eventually Chosen King. So when Noctis had asked for an apartment away from the Citadel, Regis had allowed it. Noctis felt trapped enough by his birthright, and as long as he could remain safe and healthy on his own, Regis would allow him to wander a ways from the nest for now. He had no doubts that Noctis would step up when he needed to. There was no harm in letting him spread his wings a little bit before they were clipped by fate.

The worst part was the distance. It was difficult enough to keep up with each other, with their busy and disparate schedules, when they lived in the same building. With Noctis outside the Citadel, it became nearly impossible. The rift between them was growing, that much was painfully obvious to Regis now, with how Noctis had acted toward him that evening. He’d hoped Noctis’s rush to leave the last meeting he’d seen him at had had a reason, some pressing engagement he needed to get to, but he had been too scared of the answer to ask Ignis for Noctis’s schedule. Now it appeared his fears had been justified.

Regis knew he wasn’t an ideal father by any means. No father should go months without seeing his son, weeks without talking. That was one of the worst burdens of kingship, even more so than the drain of the Wall, as far as Regis was concerned. He could bear to leave Noctis early, as long as he spent the time he did have with him properly. But to die early and _not_ make the best of the limited time he had… that would be unforgivable.

He needed to talk to Noctis again, needed to try to set things right, in whatever small way he could, before the damage to their relationship was too much to overcome.

* * *

Noctis barely saw Regis the rest of the week. He sent Noctis a message the second day, asking if he had had any prior plans for the week that needed to be scheduled around, which Noctis hadn’t, and he saw him in passing around the Citadel, but it wasn’t until the evening of the solstice that he got another chance to really talk to him when Regis summoned him to his office ahead of the official ceremony.

He’d already finished getting ready, at Ignis’s fussing insistence, so there was nothing that would pull him away until it was time for the solstice festivities to begin, and he briefly wondered if Ignis hadn’t been in contact with his dad to time that so perfectly.

Regis was waiting for him when he knocked and entered, and his face lit up with an eye-crinkling smile when he saw Noctis.

“How do I look?” Noctis asked, just to say something. He already knew from Ignis that ‘the tailors have outdone themselves this time,’ even though Noctis didn’t think there was anything particularly special about the suit. It was black, per Lucis Caelum tradition, but they had forsaken the usual gold detailing in favor of silver to better fit the winter solstice theme. And Noctis did have to admit that the cut was rather flattering.

“Like royalty,” Regis said. He crossed the room to stand in front of him, and laid a warm hand on Noctis’s shoulder. “You’ve grown into such a fine young man, and I’m so proud of you.”

The genuine praise made Noctis duck his head, embarrassed but pleased.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome, my son.”

They lapsed into an expectant silence for a moment, and Noctis again cursed his own inability to speak to his dad.

Regis broke the silence first. “I have something for you.”

Noctis tilted his head. “A little early to be exchanging solstice presents, isn’t it?”

“Oh, no. Your gifts are still up in my room, for after. I have no intentions of breaking our traditions, and this year I’ve even managed to keep Cor in the city, so he’ll be there tonight too. It’s been a while since we’ve had everyone together. No, this is something else.”

Regis turned and headed back to his desk, and Noctis trailed after him, mystified.

“I assume Ignis has been helping you prepare for tonight?” Regis said as he rifled through one of his desk drawers.

“Yeah, he’s got the little opening speech pretty well beaten into my head.”

“Good. Ah, here we go.” Regis turned around again, and he was holding a thin, flat, black box in his hand. He opened the hinged top and held it out for Noctis to see.

Inside, nestled in the folds of black velvet, was a thin silver circlet. Unadorned, but delicately engraved, and the sight of it stopped Noctis’s heart.

“This will be your first time opening a ceremony in your official capacity as Crown Prince in my stead, so I thought it was only fitting that you wear a symbol of your station,” Regis said, but Noctis barely heard him, too busy staring at the circlet as it swam in his vision.

He shook his head slightly. Somehow, the sight of the unassuming circlet dragged every fear he had been suppressing surrounding his eventual ascension back to the surface. Opening the ceremony was one thing, something he’d been _proud_ his dad had entrusted to him when he’d first asked him to do it, but this… For some reason, this was too much. Made it _too real_ , put him one step closer to bearing the crown he would never be ready for.

“No,” he croaked. “I’m not ready, I -” Words failed him, as they so often did, and Noctis looked down at his hands as they tugged on the hem of his suit jacket to avoid the soft look in his dad’s eyes.

“You are more ready than you believe. You will do just fine tonight, and -”

“I’m not ready to _lose you_ ,” Noctis said before he could filter it, and he flinched. Now he’d done it.

“...ah.” Regis set the box with the circlet aside and flexed his left hand before clenching it into a fist, the Ring glittering mockingly as he did so. “That is something I fear no one is ever prepared for.”

“I get so much less time with you than I should. It’s unfair.”

Regis sighed. “I cannot and will not deny that. But this is the cost of defending our people, and I would not leave you so soon for any reason less important than that,” he said gently. He rested his hand against Noctis’s cheek, and Noctis tipped his head into the contact. His words didn’t make him feel better, not really. They didn’t _change_ anything, his dad was still dying, would still leave him far sooner than Noctis wanted, but they still eased something inside him, that part of him that had convinced itself that Regis didn’t care how Noctis felt about the whole situation, even though he had always known that that wasn’t true.

“When your time comes, I have no doubt that you will be able to do what is required to protect our people. There is no one I believe in more than you.”

Noctis’s eyes stung. Blinking rapidly only served to free a traitorous tear. His dad wiped it away with his thumb.

“I… _regret_ all our lost time. If there was one thing I could change in this world, it would be the amount of time I have with you.”

“If you could change one thing, you would end the war,” Noctis countered, no bite in his voice. That wasn’t something he would ever hold against his dad. Ending the war would be the best thing for everyone, including them. In a moment of pure selfishness, Noctis thought about the fact that if they weren’t at war, the Wall wouldn’t be necessary.

“No, Noctis, I wouldn’t.” Regis slid his hand from Noctis’s cheek to the back of his head, tugging a little on Noctis’s hair in the process. “A good king should. But as a father, there are some things more important.” Regis guided Noctis’s head down to rest against his shoulder, and Noctis sobbed, wrapping his arms around his dad.

“Noctis?”

“I just…” He took a shuddering breath, clutching Regis tighter.

“What is it, Noctis?” Regis stroked his hand over Noctis’s hair. It was soothing, and it gave Noctis the courage to finally say what he’d been bottling up for so long.

“I just want to be able to spend more time with you. We get so little time as it is, it’s unfair that we don’t get to spend any of it together. I know we’ll never get to be a ‘normal’ family, but I… Sometimes it feels like I’ve already lost you.”

“Oh, Noctis,” Regis said, and the sorrow in his voice finished breaking Noctis’s already cracked heart.

Now that he’d started, he couldn’t seem to stop. “And I know when I really do lose you, when you leave me, I’ll be expected to step into your shoes, bear your crown, and even if I’ve learned all I can before then, I don’t know how I can do that _alone_. I won’t have time to _miss_ you, to _mourn_ you. Because our people will need their king, need the Wall. I’ll have to put on that stupid Ring and start the cycle all over again.” Noctis was crying in earnest, his tears staining the shoulder of Regis’s suit, and he tried to pull away, mortified. They didn’t have much time before the celebrations started, they couldn’t afford for him to ruin the king’s suit. But Regis just held him tighter, refusing to let him put distance between them.

“Noctis. It will never be easy, but I will do all I can to make sure that you are ready before that happens. Astrals willing, I still have many years left. I do not intend to let the Lucii take me a moment sooner than they must. I will fight to stay with you as long as I can, and when that time does come… Yes, you will need to be strong for our people, but you will never be alone. I will watch over you always, and your retainers will be ever at your side. You will have time to mourn, and your people will not begrudge you that luxury.”

“Did they when you mourned your father?”

Regis’s hand tightened in Noctis’s hair, and when the silence stretched, Noctis lifted his head enough to see his dad’s face. His expression was pained, and the small smile he offered Noctis when their eyes met was strained.

“I did not… have a good relationship with my father, and there was not much for me to mourn. I have always strived to be a better father to you than he was to me, but I fear I have still fallen far short of what you deserve.”

Noctis opened his mouth to protest that - too caught up in the second half of that admission to really parse the first, aside from realizing _why_ Regis had rarely talked about his father outside of a political context - but Regis continued before he could.

“However, they were most understanding when I lost your mother. Though the official mourning period is far too short to adequately encompass that kind of loss, you will have people to support you while you adjust. In your case, Ignis will be more than capable of filling in the gaps and holding the council at bay. I imagine there are few people in this government who would be willing to cross your advisor and end up on the receiving end of his sharp tongue. I am certainly not one of them.”

That startled a choked laugh from Noctis, and his dad’s answering smile was the most beautiful and tender thing Noctis had ever seen.

“And for now, I will do what I can to spend more time with you. I see now that I have been far too neglectful of you.”

Noctis straightened up in Regis’s arms fast enough he almost clipped his dad’s chin with his head.

“No! No, Dad, you haven’t -”

“I have,” Regis said sternly, “and it is something I must attempt to make right. I cannot undo the past, and I cannot change who and what we are, but I can delegate an extra meeting here and there, or take an extra day off every few months for a fishing trip, or eat more regular dinners so you can join me, if I can pry you away from Ignis’s cooking.” A brief, wry smile at that. “There are things I could have been doing that I was not, and that is on me. I have hurt you, and that is unacceptable. I never want you to feel like you aren’t enough, Noctis, or aren’t worthy of my time.”

“I’ve never -” Noctis stopped, realizing with horror that what he had been about to say wasn’t true. _I’ve never blamed you._ Because he _had_ , even though he’d recognized at the time that it wasn’t fair to him.

More tears dripped down Noctis’s face, and he was horrified to see moisture gathering at the corners of Regis’s own eyes.

“Dad, I -”

“It’s okay, Noctis. Your anger and hurt is justified.”

Noctis shook his head. “No, it’s not. I’ve always known what we are, what is expected of us. You’ve done more for me than should be expected of a king -”

It was Regis’s turn to look horrified, and his expression stopped Noctis mid-sentence.

“If I have _ever_ given you the impression that I view you as a burden or merely a _responsibility_ , then I must beg your forgiveness.”

“What? No! Never, Dad. I have never doubted your love for me. I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant, you’re wonderful, and you didn’t have to be.” Noctis felt his cheeks heat, and he looked away from his dad’s face. “It’s not like it’s unusual for nobility to not truly be raised by their parents. You can hire someone to take care of me, but it’s not like you can hire someone to run the kingdom for you.”

“I think the Lucii would frown upon that, certainly. But I have never once _wanted_ to ‘delegate’ raising you, even when circumstances required it. You are my pride and joy, Noctis, the best thing in my life.” Regis rested his hand on Noctis’s cheek and turned his head back to face him. Noctis was overwhelmed by the expression of pure adoration on his face.

“I’m glad, but like you said, it was necessary, and I… I _understand_ that, even if it hurts sometimes. I’ve never been angry with you for it.”

“But?” Regis prompted.

“But nothing. It’s not your fault. You’ve done the best you could with the hand we were dealt, and I doubt I will be able to even live up to what you’ve managed.”

Regis’s brow furrowed at that, a terrible sadness filling his eyes that Noctis couldn’t comprehend before it was gone.

“Noctis, I have every faith that you will rise far above my paltry deeds.” He took a deep breath, as though he was steeling himself for his next words. “The Astrals would not have chosen you were you not capable of fulfilling your destiny.”

Noctis wrinkled his nose. “Chosen, shmosen. You’d think the Astrals would have better taste.” 

Regis chuckled and ran a hand over Noctis’s hair.

“Though it is a heavy burden, I know you will carry it proudly.” He glanced back at the circlet on his desk. “If you’d rather not wear it tonight, I will not force you to.”

Noctis looked at it, gleaming in its nest of black, and though his stomach still clenched at the sight of it, at the thought of what it represented, it was no longer overwhelming. What would happen, would happen. It was time he stopped hiding from it.

“No, I’ll wear it.” He drew himself up to his full, if still unimpressive, height as he said it. Regis smiled at him, proudly.

“Very well then.” He leaned his cane against the edge of the desk and removed the circlet from its box. Noctis stepped forward so his dad could stay next to the desk for support and dipped his head for him to place the circlet on him.

Noctis straightened back up, and Regis turned him with two hands on his shoulders to face the darkening window. In a little while, Insomnia would light up with the festive, multicolored lights, but right now it was just dark enough that Noctis could see his reflection in the window. The circlet nestled perfectly in his hair, matching the silver details on his suit, and the weight of it was somehow less than he’d been expecting.

“Now you look like a king,” Regis murmured to him, and the pride in his voice was enough to outweigh the pain in Noctis’s heart.

* * *

The day after the solstice, Noctis returned to his apartment with Ignis, a new standing dinner appointment with his dad every Sunday in his calendar. He unpacked his things in his room - including comic books from Gladio, a game from Ignis, a fancy dagger with a hidden forearm sheath from Cor for “just in case,” and a new fishing rod and set of lures from his dad, with the promise of a day-long fishing trip in the spring - and returned to the living room to see Ignis with the boxes for the solstice decorations.

Noctis hesitated in the doorway. “Um.”

Ignis turned. “Yes, Noct?”

“Leave it up, please, just for a few more days.”

Ignis stilled for a moment, before smiling softly.

“Certainly, Noct.”

**Author's Note:**

> I went through about half a box of Kleenex writing this, inexplicably, and it wasn’t until I was a good ways into it that I realized it’s because I’m currently watching my mom go through the slow loss of her own mom, and I guess I’m projecting.
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr at [prince-noctisluciscaelum](https://prince-noctisluciscaelum.tumblr.com)!


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